One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

  Annie made a small noise that signified half amusement. “If we’re being honest, we all know why. Your American boss knows that Benjamin likes pretty girls. But don’t worry, he doesn’t do anything about it other than look.”

  Sylvie’s skin crawled a little, and she glanced at Alec. His expression hadn’t changed—he still looked like he wanted to punch someone.

  “What kind of man is this Benjamin?” Alec asked Annie.

  Annie threw another sly smile at Alec and shrugged. “He’s all right. I wouldn’t worry.”

  A door next to them opened and a woman exited. This lady, however, looked significantly different than Annie. She was taller, with a slim body. Her long, blonde hair and classic features reminded Sylvie of a movie star. Her silky pale blue dress was for evening—definitely not a working woman’s day wear. Her blue eyes sparkled with interest.

  “Well, who do we have here?” the woman asked, her voice standard American English.

  Annie’s face went from friendly to frosty in a flash. “Good day, Betty. Betty Parks, this is Alec Kent and Sylvie Hunnicut. Sylvie is a new journalist for the New York Herald Tribune. She starts Monday. Alec is going to be in the AFS.”

  Everyone shook hands, and Sylvie noted how cold Betty’s hands were and how her glacial smile matched.

  “I work for the London Times,” Betty said. “A very prestigious paper, obviously. It takes a lot of work to get to this point.”

  Sylvie’s stomach did a hop and a flip as she recognized a large ego right away. Yet she also knew to play it calm and detached at this point. “Of course it does.”

  Betty stood a little closer to Alec, her largest smile obviously for him. “AFS, eh? That is impressive. So few men have the muscles and the body for it. I don’t think you have that problem.”

  “Thanks.” Alec looked amused rather than irritated, and Sylvie felt a spark of dislike for Betty Parks that went deep.

  Annie turned her attention to Sylvie. “I must be off. We’ll see you Monday morning, Sylvie.”

  After Annie left, Betty pushed her long, flowing hair off her shoulder, and the move was almost exaggerated, as if she didn’t want the hair covering her generous bosom. “It’s been nice to meet you both. I hope you’ll enjoy London. I know I have. But Sylvie, you have to watch out for back stabbers in this business.”

  Sylvie thought that was a weird thing for Betty to say on short acquaintance. “Oh?’

  “You have to figure out who the right people are and make sure to make friends with them.” Betty laughed softly, as if what she said might be a joke. “There are quite a few people around here who act nice and have a wonderful gift for deception. Take my word for it. Journalism isn’t for everyone.”

  A little taken off guard by Betty’s foray into negativity right off the bat, Sylvie didn’t know how to respond. “I see. That’s good to know.”

  Betty waved one hand. “Well, I have to go. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Sylvie. And Alec, I certainly hope I see you around.”

  After Sylvie flounced down the hall and disappeared from sight, Sylvie looked at Alec.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Sylvie said. “What do you make of her?”

  He snorted a soft laugh. “She thinks rather highly of herself. Other than that, I’m not sure.”

  Good. At least he wasn’t one of those men who instantly went after any pretty face. At least she didn’t think he was.

  “I think she’s the one I’ll have to watch out for,” Sylvie said.

  The concern on his face made him appear grim and inflexible, sort of like he had when she’d first seen him again in front of her grandparent’s home.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I think I already hate this Benjamin. He sounds like a bounder.”

  She laughed, knowing he’d wanted to say something worse. “We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Would you like to wait in the car?”

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  They found the New York Herald Tribune office a short way down the hall. She gripped the doorknob with half excitement and half trepidation. When she walked in, the small size of the office took her by surprise. A maze of junky desks, five in all, took up residence in a room with two grimy windows looking down at the street. Blinds were half open, and two men clacked away on typewriters. Another man sat at the largest desk. He appeared taller, rounder, and balder than the other men. Probably Benjamin. The bigger desk gave him away. So did the smirk that covered his mouth and the way he looked her up and down.

  “Well, hello. Miss Hunnicut, what a nice surprise this is.” The man stood up and came around the desk. “Benjamin Adams.”

  His loud, American voice sounded crass to her, somehow. As if her short time back in England had turned her into an accent snob. His voice said he came from somewhere in New York, though she couldn’t say for certain. He was over six feet tall, somewhat overweight, and with a pasty white complexion on a doughy face. She guessed he was in his forties, perhaps the same age or near to the same age as Annie. His blue eyes inspired a shiver—she didn’t like the way he looked at her. They shook hands, and she introduced him to Alec.

  Benjamin winced as Alec shook his hand. “That’s quite a grip you have there, Mr. Kent. So you’re Miss Hunnicut’s boyfriend?”

  Alec and Sylvie spoke at same time. “No.”

  Benjamin scrubbed his jaw with one meaty paw. “All right then. That seems definitive. Good to know.”

  Alec shifted slightly closer to Sylvie. “Why would her marriage status be of any concern to you?”

  One of the other men shifted his chair back and stood. He looked about thirty, with a muscular frame, short blond hair, and a rugged, handsome face. He stood almost as tall as Alec.

  He held his hand out to Alec, and when he spoke, his standard American English voice was clear and deep. “It’s useful because, if anything happens to her during the bombings, we won’t have a husband running down here all angry and ready to beat up someone.”

  Alec cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips. “If anything happens to her, I’ll be down here, ready to beat someone.”

  Automatically, she reached out and touched Alec’s shoulder. “Alec. Please.”

  “I’m James Pendleton. I’ve been here a year. Nice to have some new blood around here, Miss Hunnicut.”

  She shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Pendleton. Alec’s an old friend.”

  Pendleton’s face cracked into a wide smile. “Like a big brother?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  Pendleton gestured at the other man sitting at a desk, who gave a short salute and turned back to his typewriter. “That’s Pugs Geiger. Determined to get his next article out.”

  Pugs was a bit younger than Pendleton, with a stockier, shorter frame and thinning brown hair.

  “Hey,” Pugs said, his voice deeply ingrained with New York City. He continued typing.

  “Now that you’ve met everyone,” Benjamin said. “Maybe you want to spend some time here getting acquainted with the office and how things are done?”

  Sylvie couldn’t say she honestly want to spend time with these three men, but if she planned to work here, it made sense.

  “Yes.” Sylvie glanced at Alec and saw clear disapproval on his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back. I’d like to see my friend off.”

  Benjamin looked pleased as punch that she planned to stay. “Sure. Take your time.” She left with Alec and closed the door firmly behind her.

  “No,” Alec said in a low voice.

  “Shhh.” She grabbed his upper arm, and as she led him down the hall, she couldn’t help noticing the hardness of his muscles.

  When they reached the elevator, she paused and released him. She stood close, close enough to catch his scent. Masculine and delicious, a combination of spices that made her well aware of her femininity.

  He clasped her shoulders, lowering his head a little and speaking quietly
. “Adams is a tosser. I don’t want you alone with him. And those other two wankers…I’m not sure I like them, either.”

  Alec didn’t often curse—at least he hadn’t in the past, but she wasn’t offended.

  She eased out from under his grip and stepped back. She couldn’t think straight this close to him. “Alec, this is my job, and he’s the man in charge of the office. If I’d have known you were going to react this way, I wouldn’t have let you bring me to London.”

  “Damn it, Sylvie.”

  “What?”

  “You…I…”

  “Yes?” She smiled, half amused now by his fumbling.

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re stubborn.”

  “So are you. I hadn’t noticed that changing any over the years.”

  He shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Irritation overwhelmed her tolerance. “Alec, I don’t need your protection. I’m a grown woman. I do not appreciate the insinuation I’m not capable.”

  His gaze drifted up and down, and as it had other times when he’d assessed her so thoroughly, his obvious admiration caused her body to heat. “Of course you’re capable. I didn’t mean that. But at least let me see you settled in at the Savoy.”

  She sighed, tired of traveling and dealing with obstinate, pain-in-the-rear men. “Fine. Enjoy some shopping or something. Pick me up in a couple of hours.”

  Although he obviously didn’t care for the idea, he didn’t push it. “All right. See you in two hours.”

  She left him at the elevator looking seriously displeased, but she smiled as she walked back to the office. His concern was both exasperating and gratifying.

  * * * *

  Two hours passed, and then another hour with no sign of Alec. Sylvie had started to worry. As she sat at one of the vacant desks, she ate the sandwich she’d picked up from a pub across the street, and Pugs had given her an apple he’d brought from home. She hadn’t thought about lunch when she’d left for London and hadn’t planned to start learning her job right away.

  “He’ll be back for you,” Benjamin said. “I know I would be.”

  Sylvie didn’t smile. Benjamin might be harmless, but it was obvious he enjoyed a woman’s company in the office far too much. He’d given her all the information she’d need to start work officially on Monday.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Hunnicut,” Pugs said with a genuine smile. “Traffic has been horrible today, and if he’s driving, he could be caught in some jams. The bombing last night messed up some areas that weren’t touched before.”

  Sylvie fiddled with a pencil on her desk. She’d occupied a desk for the paper in New York but never expected one here because of tales she’d heard from a returning correspondent, Julia James. She’d said most of the papers expected a correspondent to be out doing her work and not cluttering a desk. She wanted to see London, write its stories, and convey what happened here to the American public.

  “We’d better get you a gas mask,” Benjamin said.

  “I already have one. It’s with my luggage in Alec’s car.” Sylvie smiled.

  Benjamin’s pasty face curved into a contemptuous frown. “Well, as the English say around here, fat lot of good that’ll do you now. You should have brought it in with you.”

  Pendleton lifted his gaze from papers on his desk, and his eyes held a twinkle of amusement. “Pugs forgot his yesterday. It happens to all of us.”

  Benjamin jabbed his pencil against the blotter on his desk as if he wanted to stab someone. “We run a tight ship here, Sylvie. Everyone pulls their weight and sinks their teeth into every story they can get.”

  Sylvie sat up straighter. “I already have at least twenty story ideas.”

  Benjamin didn’t appear impressed, his small eyes and tight mouth giving her all the information she needed on what he thought. “Good.”

  The phone on Pendleton’s desk rang and he picked it up. As he chatted, a hollow sound rang out in the distance and grew rapidly loud. Sylvie had never heard an emergency siren before, but knew immediately what it was.

  Pendleton said into the phone, “All right. That’s it. Sirens are off. Must go.”

  He slammed down the phone.

  “Come on!” Benjamin gestured to everyone in the room and glanced pointedly at Sylvie. “Come on, love, time to hit the shelter.”

  He didn’t have to urge Sylvie. She was already halfway out of her seat. She grabbed her apple and purse from the desk drawer. Pugs led the way, Sylvie followed, and the other two men took up the rear.

  “Where’s the shelter?” Sylvie asked.

  “Downstairs, darling,” Benjamin said.

  She gritted her teeth, wanting to brain him with her pocketbook. She’d have to ignore his name calling if she wanted to keep the job. She had more important things to worry about than a lecherous boss. Alec sprang into her mind, and worry right along with it. Where was he and would he stay safe?

  “Don’t take the elevator,” Benjamin said.

  Pugs made a noise in his throat. “No plans to.”

  She followed them into the stairwell, and they went down as quickly as they could. As they marched down, she wished she was in the shelter already. Part of her wanted to tell them she wanted to go outside and see the bombing firsthand. Excitement rushed through her veins like fast-moving water. As she had before, a desire to witness the disaster and feel it under her skin came upon her. Many would call it foolhardy, and she knew it wasn’t wise. She kept a handle on it.

  Once they reached the ground floor, she saw people rushing into the lobby and heading for an area to the back. She followed Pugs, and moments later they came up against a significant crowd of people who’d run into the building and mixed with those who piled out of the stairwell.

  “Would you look at this mess,” Benjamin said.

  No one replied to his perturbed tone. The siren continued its mournful wail. With anxiety churning in her stomach, she waited with everyone else until she’d reached the doorway and headed down the stairs. As she soon discovered, it wasn’t one flight of stairs but two that took them to the main area where a shelter was designed for long-term stay. The windowless room was large enough for at least a hundred people, although it would prove a tight fit. Rugs covered concrete flooring, benches and cots with pillows and blankets lined the walls, and in the middle of the room chairs and tables provided places to eat or play cards. Along one wall two women already manned a refreshment area with tea and water at the ready.

  She shivered and rubbed her arms. Her coat seemed warm earlier in the day, but underground with little heat—well, that was a different story. In one corner a heater was set to work if needed, and she rubbed her arms again. Three vapor lamps sat in various places around the room, ready to provide light if electricity went out.

  “Have you ever used this shelter before?” she asked Pugs.

  “Yep. I was here later in the evening this week filing a story. Jerry hasn’t given up on pulverizing us since Sunday.”

  “Are those people with flashlights some sort of shelter wardens?” She gestured toward the men and women arranged around the room.

  “You mean torches,” Benjamin said.

  She half snorted a laugh. “Right.”

  Benjamin rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else about it. “Yes, they’re wardens. They keep things as orderly as they can.”

  “Get yourself some tea,” Pugs said to Sylvie as they commandeered a table.

  Pendleton smiled. “I wish they had coffee.”

  “I’ll wait.” Sylvie didn’t care for Benjamin and Pugs’ bossy manners. Pendleton was the quieter of the three and hadn’t actually ordered her around. Working with him might not be so bad.

  She settled at the table as other people filed in. Soon the shelter appeared full and one of the wardens closed the door. For a wild moment Sylvie felt suffocated, surrounded by steel and concrete. She had to draw a deep breath. She’d never liked being underground much, b
ut she figured she’d better get used to it. If the Germans continued bombing London, she’d have to work on controlling her fears.

  Pugs and Pendleton also sat down, and Pendleton pulled a deck of cards from inside his suit jacket. Benjamin sauntered toward the food table and immediately smiled at one of the younger women there.

  “Bastard,” Pendleton said.

  Sylvie jerked her attention back to the man. “What?”

  Pendleton lowered his voice. “He no more wants tea than I want a bomb to land on this building.”

  “He’s preening like a peacock.” Pugs crossed his arms.

  Sylvie appreciated she wasn’t only one who thought Benjamin a creep. She decided to ask a few questions and take notes for an article while she was down here.

  She opened her purse and retrieved pad and pencil. “Tell me, gentlemen, why are you two here in London when you could be snug at home and out of the war?”

  Pendleton shrugged his broad shoulders. “I like being where the action is. I’m thirty and my leg is a bit messed up from a motorcycle accident. If the United States gets into the war, I doubt they’ll let me join up. So I’m here to report the war if I can’t be in it.”

  Sylvie’s eyebrows shot up and she pursed her lips a second. “How interesting.”

  She scribbled some notes.

  Before she could ask another question, a low rumbling came from somewhere outside. A hush settled over the crowd, and for a second she could have heard a mouse walking in the room.

  She glanced at the people, gauging their reactions. The quiet continued, and she knew the bombing had started. To keep her nerves from jumping all over the place, she scanned the room for a story. Everyone looked as if they worked here, mostly men. A woman dressed in a uniform of some sort sat with two other regularly dressed women, and she was talking. Sylvie slung her pocketbook over her wrist, clasped her notebook, and stood.

  “Where you going?” Pugs asked.

  Sylvie smiled. “I found a story.”

  * * * *

  Alec’s heart took a leap as the earth seemed to rumble around the Bentley. He’d considered leaving his car when the sirens went off. The thought of Sylvie alone with those newspaper cretins while bombs hit the city kept his foot on the gas pedal. As the Luftwaffe flew overhead, he concentrated on moving forward in slow traffic. Traffic started to pull over as plumes of smoke rose between buildings. How far away was the damage? Two streets away, he parked in the only spot he could find. As the Jerries dropped their payload, ack ack guns, anti-aircraft, shot their deadly flak into the air. Alec cursed the Jerries, hoping the guns would hit the mark.